


Close As Strangers

by in_another_universe



Series: 5sos Imagines (originally from tumblr) [3]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: A little, Domestic Violence, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Im tired, Kinda, Minor Body Image Issues, Minor Violence, Physical Manipulation, That's it, Violence, Violence Warning, also kinda dub-con, controlling boyfriend, dang, dang girl, heart eyes, idek anymore, luke is a sweetheart and he loves you, okay here we go:, teeny bit of angst here and there, that's the fic, the boyfriend's basically a massive dick, you love him too but you make some bad choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-09 15:31:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1988199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_another_universe/pseuds/in_another_universe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically you're best friends with Luke and he's worried about you because you're making some questionable choices about staying in a bad relationship.<br/>(originally posted on my tumblr)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. but you know that i'll always wait for you

**Author's Note:**

> hellooooo  
> so this got an overwhelming response on tumblr, and I decided to post it here as well so I could keep track of everything in a simpler way. It will still be posted on tumblr, though. :)  
> thanks for reading! sorry if I got something horribly wrong.  
> Also, sorry that the title is a little angsty, but Close As Strangers just got released and I'm having some feels. I'm sure you can relate.

“I’m your boyfriend!” Dylan shouted. “Why don’t you ever hang out with me? Or pay attention to my problems? Why is it always about Luke?”

You were crying, and he was shouting. Why couldn’t he understand that Luke was important to you? You two had been friends since childhood. Why couldn’t Dylan just let that go?

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. Dylan smiled bitterly.

“Bullshit,” he said. “I see the way you look at him. How sad you are when he’s not around. Do you know how that feels, Y/N? Do you know how that makes me _look?”_ He was advancing on you slowly as he spoke, until you were backed up against the kitchen counter and he was standing in front of you.

You shook your head slowly, vision blurred with tears. “WELL IT FEELS LIKE SHIT!” he shouted. You looked down, filled with remorse. God, why were you so stupid? Why couldn’t you control your emotions more? Besides the monthly freakouts like this one, Dylan was a good boyfriend. You didn’t deserve someone as good as him.

“How about you look at me when I’m talking to you?” Dylan demanded, grabbing your chin and forcing it up so you were looking him right in the eye. “God, you’re such a slut, Y/N!” he exclaimed. “Why couldn’t one guy be enough for you? Huh? Was I not good enough in bed? Did you cheat on me?”

You shook your head, but it was too late, and his hand landed a stinging blow on your cheek. “I know you cheated on me, Y/N,” he said.

You shook your head again.

“I didn’t, I swear,” you promised desperately, trying to get around him. He grabbed your wrist, hard, forcing you to stay where you were. You thought you heard a snap, but you were so numbed out from the pain that you couldn’t really process anything right.

“I tried to be a good boyfriend,” he said quietly. “I tried. But I guess some _sluts_ just can’t deal with a good boyfriend, huh?” He hit you again.

You sank to the floor and curled into a ball, trying to get away from him.

“Please,” you whispered. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better. I promise.”

“Damn right you’ll do better!” he shouted, kicking you once in the ribs. You curled up as much as possible, tears covering your face in a gross layer. God, you could barely breathe.

“I’m… sorry…” you stuttered out.

“Aww, baby,” he said, crouching down until he was basically hovering over you. “I was just kidding.” He ran his hands through your hair before stroking the back of your neck softly. “I was kidding, Y/N. I promise.”

You shut your eyes, letting the tears stream out silently as you let him force his tongue into your mouth.

\-------

the next day

You checked to make sure your concealer covered the bruises on your face as you waited outside of security in the airport.

It was your birthday, and you were excited, because Luke was flying into New York on a break from the European tour just to see you.

Of course, you were also excited to see Dylan, (your boyfriend), and whatever he had done for your birthday, but the thought of him around Luke made your stomach turn uncomfortably.

Your best friend and your boyfriend were on less than good terms, probably due to the fact that Luke was convinced Dylan didn’t treat you well, and Dylan got possessive of you around all your male friends, but specifically Luke since he could see how much you had missed him. He tended to have monthly rages about the whole Luke situation, but aside from that he was totally sweet, so you just pushed it to the back of your mind. It wasn’t like you could do anything about Dylan even if you wanted to.

You were waiting for Luke’s flight to get in when Dylan texted you:

_Babe, where are you? Thought we had plans :( xx_

You sighed. You had told him Luke was coming to visit ages ago, but he was still going to be pissed when you reminded him.

_At the airport, remember?_ You texted back.

_Oh._ Dylan replied, and you were reminded once again of you and his fight the previous night. You shivered momentarily. He was probably already really mad. You turned your phone off so you didn’t have to think about it.

“Y/N!” someone shouted, and you looked up just in time to see Luke practically sprinting towards you and engulfing you in a hug. You returned the hug eagerly, happy to be able to finally feel how warm and soft he was again. You pressed your face into his chest as he buried his in your hair, and you were suddenly reminded of how good he smelled. God, he smelled good. “I missed you,” he whispered. You pulled back carefully, and found his eyes resting on your face.

“I missed you too, you giraffe,” you replied, trying to alleviate the tension by teasing him. “Seriously, you get taller every time I see you.”

He rolled his eyes, snaking an arm around my waist as we navigated towards the baggage claim.

“Shut up, you sound like my aunt,” he told you. You pretended to be offended.

“You did not just tell me to shut up _on my birthday_ ,” you said.

“Happy birthday,” he added quickly.

“Too late,” you snapped. “You’ve missed your window. Now I’m just mad at you.”  

“Hmm. Well, we’ll have to change that, won’t we?” he asked, before picking you up and spinning you around. You both knew that you found it annoying, uncomfortable, and adorable when he did that, but you settled for crossing your arms and looking away like you were actually mad. “Aww, Y/N, don’t be mad!” he fake-pleaded, even going so far as to use the puppy eyes. God, you hated those eyes. He was just too adorable sometimes.

Wait. Stop. You had a boyfriend. You seriously needed to cease and desist. You couldn’t have a crush on your best friend! It totally wasn’t allowed.

Luke brought you out of your thoughts by abruptly scooping you up and carrying you bridal style to the baggage carousel, ignoring the strange looks you were getting from the people passing by. You just settled into his arms, pretending not to enjoy it as you soaked up his warmth and the softness of his t-shirt.

He set you down as he reached to get his suitcase, releasing everything but one of your hands, which he kept clasped in his. You couldn’t help thinking to yourself how coupley this was. Not that you minded. Wait. Yes you did, you had a boyfriend, and Luke knew that. What was more, you knew he didn’t like you that way. God, this was so confusing.

All thoughts went immediately to the back of your mind as soon as you both got into the cab, and he snuggled against you. You let your head rest on his shoulder, and he began tracing little patterns onto the sensitive skin of your forearm.

“How are things going with Dylan?” he asked. You shrugged, trying to brush off the question like it was nothing.

“Fine, I guess,” you said, ducking your head down subconsciously as you remembered the bruises on your face that you had tried so diligently to cover up. Luke looked at you skeptically.

“Really?” he asked. He didn’t know about Dylan’s bad side, but you got the feeling Luke could tell something was up, even if he didn’t know what.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “So, how’re the boys?” You winced internally at that blatantly obvious subject change. God, that was so stupid.

“They’re good,” Luke replied carefully.

The two of you made idle small talk on the way to your apartment, stopping by the hotel to drop off his stuff before continuing on.

“What do you wanna do?” you asked when you both got to your apartment. “You must be kinda tired, huh? Do you wanna maybe take a nap?”

Luke shook his head, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“I just wanna be with you,” he said simply, sincerely, and you tried to calm your heart down as you thought of all of the meanings hidden behind those six simple words.


	2. late night calls and another text… is this as good as we're gonna get?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which your boyfriend is still a douchebag, you're in love with your best friend, and everything (almost) goes to shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one's a little bit less Luke-centric mainly due to the fact that your boyfriend is a jerk and you can't seem to see that clearly enough.

You and Luke had been cuddled on the couch watching movies for most of the afternoon when a knock sounded on your door, and Dylan sped to the forefront of your mind. Shit. You had forgotten to text him.

You were about to get up and answer it when Luke interrupted.

“Let me, birthday girl,” he said, laying a hand on your arm. You flinched reflexively, and he frowned. You looked down, avoiding his probing gaze until eventually he gave up and unwrapped himself from where he had been cuddled around you, going to answer the door. There was silence for a second, and then chaos broke out.

“What the fuck?” someone roared from the front room. Dylan. Shit. You raced out just in time to see him punch Luke in the face. He grabbed your arm before you could rush over to check on your friend, and you were forced to stay put. Your arm throbbed under his touch, a reminder of what had happened last night.

You were relieved to see that Dylan looked more sad than angry. Sad Dylan you could deal with.

“I thought we were gonna hang out, Y/N,” he said sadly. “And instead you’re hanging out with _this_ dick.”

You rubbed your hand up and down his back slowly, trying to be comforting while at the same time motioning for Luke to leave as discreetly as possible.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you told Dylan. “I’ll make it up to you,” you promised. You thought you saw Luke wince as he made his way out the door, and you made a mental note to text him later.

Dylan turned to you slowly.

“Okay, Y/N, but I don’t think you should see Hemmings anymore,” he told you, and your heart sank. First he was being possessive, and now you weren’t allowed to see your best friend at all?

“Okay, Dylan,” you said, racking your mind for a way to change the subject so he couldn’t put more detail into the requirements of when you could and couldn’t see your friends. “Let’s spend the rest of the day together. We can do whatever you want.”

“Really?” he said. “Whatever I want?”

You groaned internally, praying this would be over quickly.

\---------

An hour and five more bruises later (Dylan was into inflicting pain, and for some reason refused to acknowledge the fact that you weren’t into receiving it), Dylan was falling asleep.

You rolled over, retrieving your phone from the bedside table and going into the bathroom to text Luke.

 _Sorry about earlier_ you typed quickly.

 _It’s ok, at least we got to spend the day together_ he replied a few seconds later. _How’s the boyf?_

 _Sleeping_ , you texted back.

_Oh. Do u wanna hang out tmrw?_

You were about to text back in the enthusiastic affirmative when Dylan’s words from earlier came to the front of your mind.

 _Idk if I can_ you replied. There was silence for a couple of seconds, and then:

_Udk if u can, or udk if D will let u?_

And God. What was _that_ supposed to mean? You couldn’t tell if it was supposed to sound concerned or judgmental, and even though you knew Luke would probably never accuse you of being weak if he knew what was really going on, it kind of got to you.

When you didn’t reply, Luke tried to call you. You swore silently, wondering how he could be stupid enough to call when he knew your boyfriend was sleeping in the next room. You raced towards the door, grabbed your keys, and answered the phone when you were safely out in the hallway.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hi,” he replied. You weren’t quite sure what to say, but thankfully he saved you from that by continuing on. “I’m worried about you.”

It wasn’t what you had expected him to say, but it still sounded a little too judgmental for your liking.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you demanded.

He sighed.

“I don’t know, Y/N. I just… seeing you with Dylan, seeing the way he is around you, the way you act around him…” he trailed off, but the meaning came across pretty clear. He thought you were weak for staying with Dylan.

“Well thanks,” you snapped. “You know, you always seem to have this assumption that because I’m a year younger than you I don’t know what I’m doing with my life and you need to protect me, but I’m not completely defenseless, Luke.”

“No, that wasn’t what I meant,” he assured you quickly, but you were already a little too worked up to listen properly.

“I thought you were my best friend,” you continued. “That means you support my choices and you accept that you aren’t always going to like the consequences of those choices. Got it?”

“That’s not the point. I just wanted to make sure _you_ liked the consequences of those choices,” he replied, and, God, nobody was allowed to be that sweet when you were trying to be mad at them. It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t being fair, and it was driving you crazy.

“You know what? Fuck you, Luke,” you hissed into the phone before hanging up angrily and going back inside. You froze as you saw Dylan waiting for you on the couch in your living room. “Did you hear any of that?” you asked.

He nodded, looking pleased.

“I’m glad you took my advice, baby,” he told you, motioning for you to come over and sit on his lap. You dropped your keys into the basket and went to sit on the couch with him, smiling when he wrapped his arms around you and whispered, “I love you, beautiful,” into your hair. You were reminded once again of why you loved your boyfriend in the first place.

“Wanna go for pancakes tomorrow?” you suggested. “We can make up for today.”

Dylan shrugged a little uncomfortably.

“I don’t know, Y/N. You’ve been getting a little heavier lately. Maybe ditch the carbs for a while?” he suggested.

You sighed internally. Whatever. As long as he was in a happy, not-angry, not-throwing-things-and-hitting-you kind of mood, it was fine.

“Sure,” you replied.

“Awww, don’t be like that, beautiful,” he said, running a hand through your hair. “I was just kidding.”

And just like that, your heart ached for Luke.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shameless plug: the-angels-have-the-phandom.tumblr.com


	3. every day it gets harder to stay away from you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're being stupid, your boyfriend is being stupid, and Luke is being adorable, (as per usual).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! here’s part three, which is basically kind of a filler to explain what’s going on and get the plot to keep moving and stuff. Sorry for the lack of Luke, but not to worry, he comes back in part four!   
> Also: sorry it's so long. Oops.

You woke up to your phone buzzing and your neck cramped from sleeping in an awkward position curled up next to Dylan on the couch, practically shoved into the corner while he sprawled over the majority of it. You suddenly had a vivid flashback to yesterday, and how gentle and soft and cuddly Luke had been, but you pushed it out of your mind as you checked your phone. You were supposed to be mad at him, not reminiscing over your brief bouts of physical contact.

Your heart sank when you saw his text.

_Going back to the tour tonight._ You frowned, caught up in some angry haze of emotional middle ground between angry and sad. What were you even supposed to reply to something like that? Don’t go? See you whenever? Maybe just leave it and pretend you hadn’t seen it?

You dismissed the third one quickly, because, seriously, you were mad at him, but you hadn’t turned into a total douchebag. You quickly sent him a frowny face, and he was beginning to type a reply when Dylan shifted on the couch next to you, blinking lazily.

“Hey beautiful,” he said. You put your phone down discreetly before going to cuddle with him.

“Hey babe,” you replied, going in for a cheek kiss. He winced.

“Ewww, morning breath,” he complained, scrunching his nose like a five year old and shoving you off a little too roughly, so you ended up almost toppling off of the couch. You landed rather awkwardly on your still-injured wrist, and you winced. He rolled his eyes. “Come on, tough it out,” he said, before getting up and heading for the bathroom.

You waited for the sound of the shower turning on, but it never came. Instead, he poked his head out of the bathroom door and said, “Well? Coming or not?”

————————

It was several hours later when you were finally able to get a moment alone with your phone; Dylan was out picking up some lunch for the both of you. You turned on your phone, and were surprised to see several texts from your friend, Y/F/N.

You decided to skip them and just called her. It must have been pretty urgent, because she picked up on the second ring. This was Y/F/N. As in the one who arrived at least half an hour late to everything, including her own birthday party. She was  _never_  this prompt.

“Y/N!” she exclaimed. “Thank goodness. I’ve been trying to call you for ages.”

“Um…” you paused, trying to find a way to say ask without sounding snappish or rude. “Why?”

“I talked to Luke earlier, and he says you two had a fight,” she replied. You sighed. That was fast. “Well?” she asked, clearly waiting for an answer.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I feel kind of bad about it.”

“Well then why don’t you make up?” she suggested.

“Don’t you even want to know what it was about?” you asked, surprised.

“The giraffe already informed me,” she replied. “And honestly, I think it was a bit rude of you, Y/N.”

“Excuse me,” you said defensively. “He was the one basically outright saying he thought I couldn’t take care of myself. I was just defending my honor.”

You heard her snort into the phone.

“Please, Y/N,” she said to you. “Don’t bullshit me.”

You were about to interrupt her, and she could probably tell, because she cut you off before you could. “Save it. I know something is going on with you and Dylan, and just because you won’t tell me what it is doesn’t mean I’m gonna drop it. So I’m not letting you off easy for getting mad at your best friend. It’s not  _his_  fault you’re in love with him and you can’t do shit about it, okay?”

You sighed. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, to yourself or to her, she was right.

“Yeah,” you replied. “I just. I miss him all the time, you know? And I can never see him.”

“I know, Y/N,” she replied, sounding more comforting than critical now.

You frowned as something occurred to you.

“Oh God, he probably hates me so much right now, I am, like, the worst friend in the galaxy.”

“Why do you say that?” Y/F/N asked.

“I never see him,” you replied. “And the one time he actually  _flies out and takes a day off to see me I explode and yell at him for no reason_. We went to baggage claim when he got off his flight. He wouldn’t bring a checked bag to stay overnight, would he?”

“Nope,” Y/F/N replied.

“I am such a monumental fuck up,” you sighed, resting your head in your hands. What was your problem? Were you actually literally incapable of maintaining any long-term relationship without messing it up?

“Y/N, Luke would never hate you, don’t be so negative,” Y/F/N said lightly. You sighed.

“Sorry,” you apologized quickly, wondering what your problem was. It was no wonder Dylan was always joking with you. You were such a downer. You were probably just depressing to be around at this point.

You were drawn out of your thoughts by the sound of the key fitting into the slot.

“Hey, Y/F/N, I have to go. Dylan’s back.”

“Send my regards,” Y/F/N replied sarcastically. None of your friends really liked Dylan, and you got the feeling it was mutual.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

You hung up and smiled when you saw Dylan coming in the door. He put the bags down on the kitchen counter and then made his way over to you, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek.

“What did you get?” you asked as he made his way inside and took off his shoes.

“Jesus, give me a minute, will you?” he snapped. “I just got home. Go look for yourself if you want food  _that_  much.”

He closed the door to the bathroom, and you sat there letting his words ring in your ears. They stirred up a strange mix of emotions, but mainly just the memory of his words from before.

You walked into the bedroom slowly, turning until you were facing the full-length mirror that hung on one of the closet doors. You pulled up your shirt until you could see your stomach, and pinched it, wincing when you found that there was enough fat underneath your skin that it came away a bit when you pulled it. So Dylan was right.

He cleared his throat, and you turned to find him smiling at you in the doorway.

“Vain much?” he said, and it sounded a little bit teasing, so you let it go without saying anything.

But it mixed together with all of his words from before, about how you had gained some weight, and how he was surprised that you wanted food “ _that_  much”, and pretty soon you were sitting with an unpleasant cocktail of guilt and self-hatred swirling around in your otherwise empty stomach. It occurred to you that your boyfriend, someone you loved, someone who was supposed to love  _you,_ shouldn’t make you feel so terrible all the time. But he was just looking out for you, right?

The next few days were spent in inexorable discomfort. You sat there letting the time pass, listening absentmindedly to whatever the hell Dylan was going on about now, and you ached.

Oh, how you ached. You ached for Luke, for his comfort and his warmth, and the way he fidgeted with his lip ring when he was nervous. You ached for the way his smell lingered on your skin after you had spent the afternoon engulfed in his arms. The way he tripped over himself and acted like a dork and was secretly the most beautiful person you had ever known.

And you ached of self-hatred, because you wanted him so badly, and you couldn’t have him, and you were being selfish. You should have been paying attention to your boyfriend. What was your problem, anyway?

Eventually, after a few more days of aching, joyless sex, and criticism from Dylan, it had been a week and a half since the incident, and he was finally beginning to notice something was up with you.

“Something wrong, Y/N?” he asked. You shook your head, but didn’t seem convinced. “Come on, you can tell me what’s wrong.”

When you remained silent, his expression darkened. “It’s because of Hemmings, isn’t it,” he said, and it didn’t sound like a question. You looked down, avoiding his gaze, because he’d be able to tell if you lied, and besides, you didn’t want to lie. Your entire relationship with Dylan was founded on unconditional honesty.

“Yes,” your forced yourself to say. “It’s  because of Luke.”

“Don’t correct me, bitch,” he snapped quickly.

“Sorry,” you said, and you meant it. Not about interrupting him, but about being a bad girlfriend.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, like he was trying to calm himself, before looking at you again. “Dammit, Y/N,” he said quietly. “You’re being ridiculous.”

You blinked, nodding quickly in agreement because he didn’t sound mad, and that was a good thing.

“I know,” you agreed. “I just miss him sometimes. He’s my friend, and-”

“Ex-friend,” Dylan interrupted you to say. You nodded again slowly.

“Right,” you continued, even more subdued than before. “Anyway, I just miss him. He and I used to be so close, you know?”

He hadn’t said anything, so you turned to face him, and found him pressing his hands against his temples and taking deep, measured breaths.

“Why can’t you see that he’s no good for you?” Dylan demanded, and apparently the breathing strategy wasn’t working because his voice was rising quite alarmingly in volume. You looked down, though something about what he had said was turning over in your mind.

“I’m sorry,” you said. You were, for being selfish. But you weren’t sorry for being friends with Luke. He loved you. How could that be a bad thing.

“What are you sorry for, beautiful?” Dylan asked softly, voice tinged with anger.

“I’m sorry for,” you interrupted yourself to catch a tear as it trickled from your eye slowly. “For being selfish. For being a bad girlfriend.”

Dylan nodded.

“Good,” he praised. “What about Hemmings? What are you sorry for about Hemmings?”

You knew what he wanted you to say: you were sorry that you were ever friends with him, that you would do better, that you didn’t love Luke anymore. But as you tried to say it, you found you couldn’t. You loved Luke. You wanted Luke.

You didn’t want this, (could you even call it a relationship?) whatever it was that you had with Dylan. You didn’t want to be stuck feeling such a strange mix of emotions every minute of the day. So you shook your head. “Excuse me?” he asked.

“I’m not sorry about Luke,” you said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t love you, but I’m not sorry I was ever friends with Luke. He loves me, and that’s not a bad thing.”

Saying it was like the key to your prison, and, suddenly, Dylan’s eyes widened as he realized what had just happened.

“What the fuck is your problem?  _I_  love you, remember?” he reminded you, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you roughly. You nodded, because you knew it was true, even if he had a strange way of showing it. “I care about you, you selfish bitch!” he shouted, throwing you to the ground.

He was right, and you both knew it. Even if you had defied him by confessing your feelings for Luke, Dylan was still right, because you  _were_  a selfish bitch. “I gave up everything for you, moved into  _your_  apartment, got a job near here. And you were using me!”

You watched him pace angrily from your spot on the ground. There was another strange mix of emotions brewing, but they were different from the ones before.

“I’m sorry,” you said. It was all you could think of, though it was growing less and less true by the second.

“You know, I don’t think you are!” he said heatedly. “You don’t sound that sorry to me.”

When you didn’t say anything, he walked over to you. The burn of his first slap stung on your face, and you looked up slowly, full-on crying now. “Are. You. Sorry. Now?” He punctuated each word with another slap, each one harder than the one before it, until you were sobbing, trembling, and nodding. “You’re such a slut,” he said in disgust. “Can’t even see that Hemmings is bad for you.”

And there, there was that mix of emotions again. Because Dylan was wrong. Luke wasn’t wrong for you. Luke loved you, and you knew it.

“No,” you said quietly.

“What did you say to me, bitch?” Dylan demanded.

“I said n-no,” you stuttered, crawling backwards quickly as Dylan advanced. “Luke loves me.”

“You think I care?” Dylan demanded, yanking on your hair painfully until you were forced to look at him. “The bastard’s trying to steal my girlfriend.”

And that was when it clicked. How offended Dylan had been about the way it made  _him_  look, how critical he always was of you, how possessive. You were an accessory to him, something to go with his huge ego and his abusive personality.

“That’s all I am to you, isn’t it? A possession. I  _hate_  you,” you said, and though your voice cracked over the word hate, and you probably looked like a pathetic sniveling mess lying there on the floor of your own apartment, the words were clear.

Dylan slapped you again, but you didn’t care. You got it now, why he was such a dick to you, and why you hadn’t been able to see it. “I don’t want to be your possession anymore, Dylan,” you said.

“Rather be Hemmings’?” he demanded. “I can’t believe you. I was so devoted to you, I loved you so much. I gave up everything for you. I was such a good b-”

“Just get out!” you shouted finally, interrupting him. His eyes widened.

“What?” he asked.

“Get out,” you repeated. He backed up slowly, and eventually made his way out the door. As soon as he was gone, you felt an enormous weight lift off your chest. He was gone. Finally.

But, oddly enough, it didn’t feel as good as you thought it was going to. You had spent two years of your life with Dylan. Now, there was no one. Just a hole in your chest. You felt hollow, like the enormous weight had been lifted not off of your chest, but out of it. It was confusing, and it hurt. You hurt.

You walked over, got your phone, and dialed the first number you thought of. Luke.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Y/N?” he said.

“H-hi,” you choked out, so relieved to hear his voice.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sounding worried immediately.

“I-I-” you couldn’t get it out, but he seemed to understand anyway.

“Oh.”

“It h-hurts, Luke. My heart hurts. H-he never loved me, did he? He never even loved me,” you realized aloud.

“ _I_ love you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

The words took a minute to sink in, but when they did, they filled you with an endless amount of hope that curled up under your skin, replacing the uncomfortable cocktail of hatred from before. It made you happy, though, as you realized belatedly, you were still crying quietly.

“It hurts,” you repeated, though in truth it hurt a little less  

“God, I know, Y/N. I know. I wish I could be there for you,” he said.

And the both of you stayed there, listening to each other’s breathing and saying nothing. And with every breath you heard him take, you could feel yourself accepting what had just happened. It was going to be okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the-angels-have-the-phandom.tumblr.com <3


	4. I won't give up, even though it hurts so much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically everything is fluffles and nothing (almost) hurts. Luke is a good pre-boyfriend and you are confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys so much! suggest stuff you want to read, and I'll try to write it: the-angels-have-the-phandom.tumblr.com

Everything was a bit of a haze in the hours after Dylan left. You couldn’t think straight, stuck in some in between state, some hazy almost-reality brought on by the lack of someone there to remind you of yourself. It was so cold. Everything was so cold, and you couldn’t think.

Luke hadn’t called you since the first time that night, and you could feel yourself starting to crumble, sitting there frozen on the floor. You didn’t love Dylan. You didn’t. But you felt frozen in that state of mind where you were convinced that you had, once upon a time.

As you sat on the floor shivering, you could feel the hours crawling by, until it was once again light outside. Slowly the sun began to set, and there you sat, staring almost resolutely at a point about a foot above where your cellphone sat on the table.

By the time it had gotten light outside again, you had lost pretty much all feeling. Everything was numb, and cold. And apparently your hearing had diminished as well, because one second everything was silent and still, and the next you were being engulfed in a familiar, warm embrace. Luke.  

Slowly, as his warmth seeped through his clothes and into your skin, you could feel the numbness fading, replaced by the aching of before. But it was better, now that Luke was here. It wasn’t so painful, because at least you had his smell, and his arms wrapped around you, and the sound of him breathing to distract from the gaping hole in your chest.

“Hey, Y/N,” he whispered into your hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier.”

You wanted to greet him properly, to reassure him that it was fine, because he was here now, but your throat felt clogged, and somehow the only words that came out were: “Where were you?”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“It was so cold,” you told him plaintively, wondering what the hell was wrong with you. Why couldn’t you shut up?

“I know, baby. I’m so sorry.”

Finally, with the use of the pet name, the last piece of ice that lurked in your chest melted, and you relaxed against him, tucking your face into his chest and sitting fully on his lap, until you could feel his bony knees poking into the backs of your thighs. You didn’t care, though. Being uncomfortable with Luke was better than being comfortable with anyone else.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. He began rubbing your back soothingly with one of his large, warm hands, and you realized all at once that you were crying, dampening the front of his light cotton shirt with your tears.

“God, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he muttered into your hair, voice a wildly attractive mix of honey and concern. You hiccoughed unattractively, still a watery, crying mess.

“I-it’s okay,” you reassured him.

“No,” he protested at first. “I love you. I should have seen what was going on, I should have stopped it, I could have-”

“No,” you said firmly, ignoring the tears still running down your face in favor of pulling back to stare Luke straight in the face. “I think _I_ needed to do this.”

He regarded you carefully before nodding and pulling you back into his embrace.

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N,” he told you. “You’re so strong, so brave. And he’s gone now. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

You sighed, half contentedly and half tearfully.

“It hurts, you know?” you said slowly. “I guess I sort of got used to him being part of me. And now he’s gone. I’m not sure I’m anything good without him.”

This time, it was Luke’s turn to pull back and stare at you seriously, though he took it a step further and cupped your face between his large, warm hands, holding on tighter when you flinched a little by reflex.

“You are amazing, Y/N,” he said fiercely. “You are _stunning_ , and I love you so, so much. You’ve got to know that.”

You felt yourself flushing as you looked down, the edges of your eyelashes almost brushing his fingertips. You couldn’t help thinking that serious wasn’t a particularly good look on Luke. You couldn’t see his dimples properly when he was serious, and he looked so sad, so you said: “I know,” as a way of pacifying him, even though you could both hear that you didn’t believe it.

“God, baby, what did he _do_ to you?” Luke sounded so worried, so concerned about you, that you felt an unfamiliar kind of warmth run through your veins. You felt illuminated.

“I’m not sure it matters,” you said slowly. Luke frowned.

“Of course it matters,” he insisted. “I’m worried about you. Are you hurt?”

You shook your head.

“It’s been worse,” you replied, ignoring the hitch in Luke’s breath at your matter-of-fact tone. “I just want to move on, Lukey.”

“You can do whatever you want, baby. He’s gone. I’m here.”

You looked up at Luke quickly, trying to discern the meaning behind that cryptic sentence, to see if there were any hints in his expression, but he seemed to be going to great lengths to preserve a careful façade of neutrality. Maybe there was another way to tell what he meant. You leaned up carefully, and sealed your lips over his.

The angle was awkward because of the crick in your neck, but one of his hands was in your hair, and you could feel his lip ring against the corner of your mouth, and it was all so, impossibly warm, in the best kind of way, and so your discomfort faded quickly.

You sat up a little more in his lap, deepening the angle and sliding your tongue along the seam of his lips slowly, tentatively. His breath hitched, and he pulled back quickly. The careful expression from before was back.

“This is a bad idea,” he said hesitantly, sounding almost as if he hated himself for saying anything at all.

“I like how polite you’re being, Luke,” you said. “But it’s stupid. I love you too, you know.”

One of his hands was still fisted in your hair, the other wrapped carefully around your waist, but he looked unconvinced.

“But you’ve literally _just_ gotten out of a bad relationship, Y/N. I don’t want to intrude,” he insisted. You shook your head slowly.

“I don’t think you get it, Luke,” you said. “I _want_ you to intrude. I want you to be here all the time, filling up all the gaps until I should get sick of you, but I don’t. I want that.”

He stroked your cheek with his thumb absentmindedly, grinning a little, (and, ah, _there_ were the dimples), before pecking you on the lips.

“I want that too,” he agreed. “I’ve loved you for so long.” He kissed you again, deeper this time, until you were winding both of your hands into the softness of his hair, and he was hoisting you higher on his lap. He kissed you until the ache in your chest was almost completely gone, replaced with something warm, and whole, and innately _Luke_.

And somehow, you knew everything was going to be okay now. 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: the-angels-have-the-phandom.tumblr.com


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